Lovenia Libby

Presumptuous Springtime

Of presumptuous springtime
When the air buzzes. Lilting.  Like boys and dentists
Assuring the lacks
Laughing-gassing. Laughing. Gassing.
Assumption of spring.

The sun shines enough
Okay?
Feel silhouettes and sweet nothings
Okay.
Stumble again into the
bumble blunder plunders of February
Perusing dirt beds in the sinister sun
Cheekily mislaid
By the blizzards of May

These are the afternoons
When the rain waits for your walk home
Feel the Februaries.  Cleansings.

Sponge down each trapezius, latissimus, with knotted kisses
Chipping away at old cracks like woodpeckers
Determined to build a home in circular perfection

These apples fill their minds with annual youth
Filling my empty space with sounds
Filling my stomach with butterflies and seasonal sniffles
Beat my blood in rhythm with the blue sky
A lilting prussian blue across my skin
Across my oxygen

Februaries
In an arsony of petrichor

 

Drum a Drum

He and I
Speak with spotted hands
We know in reverence
I cannot wash him out with words

You are young
I am choking your facts down

Sand in my hand
I’ll hand you a year
And try
And try
And try

I’ll fill myself
With holidays
And supplements
Home grown vegetables
And cinder blocks

My dearest
My dearest
I sat on a wall
And my breath is so heavy
I’ve started to fall
And I hate this
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.

Come you spirits that tend on mortal thought
Let me love you
unconditionally

He loved me on friday
unconditionally
And we laughed
From the wings
With his woolen smile
Resting on my knees
Caught me in his crooks
And his steadiness

A drum
A drum
Macbeth doth come

I hold his daggers
He ties my ropes
We are full of silent longing
Melting down cough drops

He said he would love me
In frost and too little time
If the flowers weren’t your own
If the flowers weren’t your own

And I must promise
Not to lace my satin fingers through his hair
I am so sick with belonging

 

About the author: I am Lovenia Libby, a sixteen year old in my junior year of high-school at Flagstaff Arts and Leadership Academy, a small mountain oasis of the arts in Flagstaff Arizona.  An avid writer and performance poet for years and connoisseur of far too much literature and Shakespeare, this is my first publication.